For My Son on His Birthday

June 22, 1997. That’s the day you took apart the whole of me to be pieced back together in a puzzle I hope will never be completed.

You were my life’s great surprise, usurping this body before I’d finished writing thank you cards for wedding gifts. Unable to breathe out the words “I’m pregnant,” I sucked in the sentence that couldn’t possibly be true.

I told your father the news on an inhale.

We prepared ourselves. With car seats and swings, tiny socks and hooded towels. Diapers and board books and nasal aspirators. And yet.

I could not have been more unprepared.

For stubby feet like new potatoes, your shock of hair falling out in tufts. For endless rocking and crying, for bubbly smiles and gurgling discoveries. You gnawed on a wet fist and I tickled your belly as it collapsed with hiccups. I buoyed you on my lap and marveled at the fierceness of my feelings. I couldn’t get enough of your skin against my hand.

Then touch gave way to sound; your gruff voice asking questions. Tirelessly. What’s that? And Why? Always the why and a curiosity that had no patience for satisfaction.

You were Buzz Lightyear and Peter Pan, cloaking yourself in their greatness, the belief that you could fly. You looked sideways at the frailty of heroes, confident that reality was overrated. Your sense of justice balanced tenuously in a world that wasn’t fair.

You sought to test that world—and me—to be sure we wouldn’t fail you.

I failed you many times.

You forgave me many times.

You sorted through overturned buckets of Legos; Barbie shoes and Polly Pockets attending the mix. A friend shouted, “No girls!” as your sister entered the room. You said, “Yes. Karly can play,” without looking up from your game.

Do you remember making products to sell for 4th Grade Business Day? You spent your “income” on gifts, sharing half the bounty with Karly. You couldn’t see my tears of pride through the shut bedroom door.

I told your father of the generosity on an exhale.

I was afraid you’d inherit my weaknesses, but you’re already stronger than I am in ways that matter most. You make unlikely choices and don’t worry what others think about your differentness. You analyze rules for their intentions and are deliberate with your things, knowing their purposes and whereabouts always. Such conscientiousness is a mystery to me—The Mistress of Lost Possessions and Carelessness.

You are, at times, competitive; but when you don’t care to win, you surrender the victory, succumb to silliness and give up the fight. Sarcasm sings on your tongue; wit spreads across your cheeks in crooked grins. You know you’re funny. And smart.

But oh, my dear Jack, please believe you are extraordinary.

You’ve catapulted me to new depths and heights, engendered in me both pain and joy. I was changed by your birth, trading in the girl I was for the mother I hoped to be.

Soon, before I’m ready, you’ll be gone in a whiff of gasoline and a screech of tires. I can only hope that when you leave, a piece of our unfinished puzzle travels with you.

And even as I spend my days stringing together words for people I’ll never meet, know this:

I will never again create a work as wonderful as you.

—

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It’s very interesting…my daughter’s birthday is tomorrow and I’ve written a birthday post to her as well. Our posts have in common the reflecting upon our personal flaws that manifest themselves in our children, and yet, how much better they are than we are ourselves.

This so resonated with me today, on the eve of Little CEO’s birthday. You rock. I’m honored to have read it.

I am so fascinated by the mother son relationship, as a mom to 3 girls it is so foreign. The boy to man transition seems so much more forceful and permanent than girl to woman. I admire and am grateful to women like you raising wonderful men.

Julie…
I have read through this three times, seeking the words to tell you just how much you’ve moved me.
Yet, I’m failing miserably.

The most beautiful part of this post is that it shows just how well you understand your son…what makes him who he is. That is such a lovely gift you’ve given him, Julie, to truly know and appreciate him for who he is.

That was too moving. I can’t even come up with anything witty to say. My oldest daughter is 14, too. It seems perhaps we are living parallel lives. I remember quite vividly making scarves with her to sell at her business day. She traded them all away for next to nothing.

I wonder if you realize just how great of a mother you are? You are so very blessed to have one another.

I love the part where he “cloaks himself in greatness” and finds reality to be overrated. Those phrases capture the essence of boys in childhood. Right now my son is running around with matchbox cars taped to his chest and back, because that makes him a Superhero.

It pretty much made me cry, because you captured what I sense about my sons, but couldn’t put into words. You have a gift. It’s ridiculous how talented you are at writing. I never ever say this to people, but I really do think you should write a book or something.

This was one of my favorites, Jules! I feel blessed to have you both in my life and to be able to watch Jack grow into a man (well, not quite yet, but soon enough)! I love you both and look forward to celebrating many, many more birthdays together!! Happy 14th Jackers!! Suz

He IS an amazing young man! We all know the gene pool in which Jack is swimming is Olympic caliber. And I love seeing so many of YOUR traits, idiosyncrasies, and mannerisms manifest themselves in my nephew’s persona. But oh how this child can push your buttons; in a few cleverly knitted words, reducing you to a heap of frustration, tears….regret. You are often harder on yourself than you should be, reliving moments of weakness and agonizing over their potential long term implications. The truth is, because of your tremendous love and in spite of your perceived flaws, your children are a blessing to others (the benchmark by which I tend to measure successful parenting). And even at 14 and (almost 12), they still love spending time with you and Bill. Tough to argue with those stats sistah!!!

Wow! How ironic that I am reading this at Adam’s graduation; now the tears can flow. I remember when you told me you were pregnant, and now he’s 14. You have done well my dear friend …you should be so proud!

This was beautiful, Julie. May you have backed up and locked down this blog, so that you will always have this post to show your son. It is like the letter I always want to have written, just so there is the beginnings of a description of how I feel about my child. I haven’t gotten there yet, but you have.

Oh my, oh my. What a beautiful song of love for your boy. This letter is a treasure he will, I’m sure, keep forever.

And I remember so vividly, insisting I didn’t have enough baby washcloths. Once I got those washcloths, I was filled with this oh so false sense of security. Little did I know, that washcloths would mean nothing in navigating this unchartered shore of motherhood.

And I hide from the phone, too.

Happy Birthday to your boy and Congratulations on your 14th year of motherhood. The joy never leaves.

Happy b’day to Jack. I did initially think: Holy crimoly – dude is tall! Glad to know there was invisible rock goin’ on there. I will likely try to do something like this for Monkey’s b’day in August. He will not be home to read it. He’ll be at summer camp, but I’ll send it to him.

Did you share this with Jack? And if so, what was his response? Eye-rolling? Hugs? Just trying to prepare myself.

Thank you, Julie, for doing what you do. For making us all feel the universal experience of whatever it is right smack dab in the middle of your puddle of personal.

Julie, you’ve really moved me to tears. How wonderful to have a mother like you, who weaves such stunning and heartfelt phrases. Thank you my friend for sharing your mommy-joy. xo And happy birthday to your boy. The spitting image of you I might add. 🙂

Argh – I’m 42. And my son is really making me feel my age. He needs to stop that immediately.

But I DO love that picture of my boys on the boat….It was my parents’ boat. It’s where I announced to them that I was engaged, where I asked my bridesmaids to…ummmm…..be bridesmaids, and where we revealed I was pregnant (gulp).

I LOVED that boat.
But my parents sold it when they retired to Palm Desert.

Lois – It IS moving so quickly…and I keep trying to soak it up and be in the moment; but then I find myself thinking about the past and how much I didn’t soak up and wasn’t in the moment. It’s a cycle, I tell you. One quick cycle. Ah, motherhood. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I wish it were easier. Or slower…

Morgan – Oh, he’s dynamic alright. Among many other things…;-)
Thanks for the wishes for Jack. This year is already off to a great start for him. (and me!)

Happy Birthday to him! I really love the line – a soul selecting his own society. There is a lot of responsibility on a teenager, in a lot of ways. None of us know it at the time, but who we identify and hang out with, really shapes us in many ways.

I am crying over here! I just loooooved this post. I have two sons and love them so, so much. Just today my 6 y/o acted like he was Superman and kept leaping everywhere like he was flying. I am going to really miss that some day. Thanks for sharing this moment with us all!

Oh this took my breath away! I know I am way late, but happy birthday to your young man…and happy BIRTH day to you. I am finding I am quite comfy in this club of women who were made mothers by beautiful sons. And reading your words fills me up with a hope and excitement for the future.

This was incredible. I absolutely loved how you “breathed” your way through the story. The continuity was genius. Would you mind if I share your link in one of my blogs next week? I would love to share this with my readers. I found you through MommyPants and I am so glad that I did! Totally a new follower 🙂

Dammit, you made me cry! I decided to check you out after the wonderful Empress Alexandra sent out that sweet tweet last week (? I’ve lost track of time, but I think… it was last week) mentioning you and I together. I didn’t expect to get all teary-eyed, and am now derailed from the other writing I was attempting to get done today, but have actually been procrastinating it because I’ve been away from the blogiverse for a week and a half and can’t help but try and catch up on some reading of my favorite bloggers. Very few have put into words how I feel about my kids, but your words really echoed my own. You capture a bit of how I feel about each of my kids, or rather, some of the dynamics that go on between me, my son, and my daughter. My daughter is almost my clone (which means life will be hard for her, as she is overly complicated and her own worst enemy), and my son is literally like my “sun.” He is the highest of my highs and he lights up a room, and he has the kind of joy that I didn’t know could exist within a person that is of above-average intelligence, nor within a person that somehow, miraculously, sprang from my crazy self.

Both my children are gifts. They make me ache with gratitude, and with the ever-present, haunting sadness of knowing they will leave me one day.

Really glad I came over here to shed some tears! Seriously, though — thank you for your beautiful words. I only hope when my kids are older, I can give them a similar gift.

As soon as I saw that tweet from Alexandra I followed you on Twitter – and now I can see WHY she said you leave awesome comments.

I have a similar situation to what you described with your children, but my daughter is the “sunny” one – she lives her life with a happy smile; her only goal is to please others (which is at times a worry in itself, but I must occasionally get some sleep so I have to let it go).

It’s sometimes hard for me to believe that two human beings I’ve raised closely together (ostensibly the same environment, the same parenting) could be so different.

And yet. At their core, both my babies (not so young anymore) WANT to be good in this world.

And what more could I ask of them?

Thank you for your LOVELY, kind words – and for understanding what I was trying to say here.

So wonderful to “meet” you and I can’t wait to check out Righteous Venting.